


Untitled or Lab!Sex in the Afternoon

by redshoemafia



Category: Captain America (2011), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Superhusbands, lab!sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-14
Updated: 2012-05-14
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redshoemafia/pseuds/redshoemafia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve, Tony, lab!sex. Just read it, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled or Lab!Sex in the Afternoon

Tony is bent over his worktable when Steve slips into the lab.

 

Nothing new there. Nor is the music blaring angrily over the speakers, or Tony muttering orders that only made sense to himself and hopefully JARVIS. In fact, Tony’s utter lack of attention to anything but the finicky machine doodad in his hands is exactly what Steve was hoping to find. The bent over the table part is just an added bonus that shows off the other man’s fine posterior.

 

It’s funny. Before he started seeing Tony Stark, he never would have considered doing what he has in mind. He was mild-mannered for a soldier; would never dream to stride into a room like he owned it when he didn’t, especially not with the intention of pressing the only other occupant against a convenient surface and sliding his cock deep inside of them and _taking_ them. Before Tony Stark came swearing and swaying into his life, Steve would have blushed at the mere mention of such a vulgar word for his anatomy.

 

But as he said, that was before.

 

Now, he barely has the patience to wait until Tony puts the soldering iron down before clasping him by the hips and pulling him back, groaning when the cleft of his pert rear end comes into contact with Steve’s not unimpressive erection.

 

Tony, gods love him, squawks in a decidedly undignified manner, standing bolt upright and slamming into Steve’s chest with a thump. “St-Steve?”

 

Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s middle, pulling him closer and mouthing down the side of his neck. “Were you expecting Thor?”

 

That’s another thing Tony taught him. Before Tony Stark, Steve didn’t have even the faintest ability to be tongue-in-cheek.

 

“What’s gotten into you?”

 

Tony sounds serious enough that Steve contemplates stopping for the briefest moment, overcome with blushing and stammering excuses and going back to being the awkward, pre-serum kid from Brooklyn he once was. He shifts his weight to step back, disconnect their bodies, but Tony threads a hand into his hair and pulls his mouth back to his neck where it belongs and he goes back to nipping patterns into tan skin.

 

“Not that I’m complaining.” He sounds breathless and Steve takes no small amount of pride in it. “Just mildly curious I need to take you in and make sure you haven’t been replaced by a very well disguised doom-bot or something.”

 

“Get molested by doom-bots often?” Steve arches an eyebrow, a talent learned thanks to the man in his arms.

 

“Well, you know how it goes. Bots can’t resist the suit.”

 

Tony smirks and Steve rolls his eyes, flipping the shorter man in his arms and claiming his mouth. It does an efficient job of stopping the ramble Tony is building, pressing the words back between his lips and chasing them with his tongue. He licks past each nook and cranny of Tony’s mouth, sampling and savoring and diving back for more. He clings too, first to slim hips and then when his hands can’t resist, sliding down to cup the firm flesh of Tony’s ass.

 

Steve lifts him without warning, not breaking the kiss they’re locked in for the words to warn him, and sets him un-gently on the surface of the worktable. He slides his hands up the smooth expanse of Tony’s chest, catching his nipples between thumb and forefinger and _twisting_ , swallowing up the resulting gasp. Steve doesn’t have the patience to strip him of his shirt the conventional way, doesn’t want to stop tasting his Tony to pull the fabric away, and in the end grunts and strains and tears the tank top down the middle and lets it pool on the ground at their feet.

 

“ _Fuck_.” Tony mutters, biting Steve’s lower lip and pulling him closer. “Steve!”

 

The way his voice echoes of the cavernous space of the lab sends something straight to the heart of Steve’s inner caveman, bringing out the basest instincts he possesses. He wants to devour Tony, to leave finger shaped bruises on his hips and teeth marks on his neck and parade him up and down the streets with a look so smug even Fury wouldn’t dare to comment. But instead, he worms his fingers into the waistband of Tony’s jeans and pulls and Tony has to scrabble for the button before Steve rips them to shreds too.

 

The table hasn’t quite warmed to Tony’s heat and he hisses when bare flesh meets the chill metal table. The sound breaks the seal of their lips, forces Steve to take a breath and gives Tony a chance to peel the shirt from his body. The billionaire takes what seconds he can to admire the strong planes of Steve’s chest and the tapered vee of his waist before he’s pounced again.

 

“Steve,” Tony manages to groan, feeling the heat of the other man against him and caught up.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Damn it, are you going to fuck me or not?”

 

“Shall I lock the door then, Mister Stark?” JARVIS pipes over the sound of Steve growling at his question. “To give you your privacy?”

 

Steve can’t help it, he bursts into laughter. It’s taken a long time for him to get used to the idea of a sentient computer running most of the household, even longer to be comfortable with the fact that it seems to watch everything that goes on, the old perverted system. In the days just after moving into the house, he would have been properly mortified of such a question.

 

But that was before Tony Stark.

 

So instead, Steve answers, “Yes please, JARVIS. We’re going to need quite a bit of privacy.”

 

“As you wish, Sir.”

 

He hears JARVIS latch the door and dim the lights and he can’t help but chuckle as Tony groans into his shoulder.

 

“Remind me to reprogram him, would you?”

 

“I’ll get right on that.”

 

Steve presses his mouth to Tony’s neck still grinning, licking his way down the sinews and fine bones until he can sink his teeth into the strong muscle connecting to his shoulder. His hands are free to take Tony’s cock; stroking it slowly and languidly and making the other man refocus back to him instead of what coding he’ll need for JARVIS.

 

Tony pulls on his hair, not gently but Steve has come to be more than okay with that, until he can nip at Steve’s bottom lip. The dark stubble on his chin itches along tender flesh and goes straight to Steve’s core, warming its way outward with lightening speed. His grip tightens and he swipes his thumb across the slit, collecting the bead of moisture there and spreading it downward.

 

They stay that way for an endless moment, Steve stroking and Tony nipping, but it’s not enough. Steve needs to feel his Tony around him, hot and tight and pulsing.

 

Tony, ever the thinker, beats him to the punch. “Please tell me you brought lube.”

 

“Left pocket.”

 

And off he goes, taking his sweet time running his hands over Steve’s ass to feel for the promised package. Tony pulls the tube out with a flourish.

 

"Did they have the boy scouts back in your day?"

 

Steve just rolls his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you, you talk too much?"

 

Tony opens his mouth to keep up the banter, but Steve puts a stop to it with his tongue. He plucks the tube from the other man's fingers deftly; managing to pop the cap with one hand occupied and his eyes closed and slicks his fingers carefully. He drops his newly slick digits down, probing along the cleft of Tony’s ass until he finds the puckered entrance waiting for him.

 

“Oh _God_ ,” Tony groans, his head falling back against his shoulders. He picks up his hips and ruts them down against the invasion.

 

“Steve’s fine.”

 

“ _Jesus_ fuck,” Tony gives a hitching sob to the words, pressing until the fingers are two knuckles deep in his greedy hole, “I’ve created a monster.”

 

He takes the accusation in stride, because it’s sort of true. Steve slicks a third finger into his Tony, unashamed as he enjoys the way the other man whines desperately and digs his grip into the strength of his shoulders. His cock strains against his jeans, but he’s not quite done teasing. He nips at the hollow of Tony’s neck, scratching the stubble on his chin against the sensitive skin above the arc reactor, and then looks up through his lashes.

 

“If you want me inside you…” He plants another sloppy kiss on the skin directly under his lips, “You’ll have to do something about my jeans…”

 

Tony lets out a frustrated whine, annoyed that he’ll need to focus enough to undo the zip and the button of the other man’s pants when he was so close to losing himself in the feeling of Steve. He thrusts his hips forward, further onto Steve’s fingers and _groans_ , pulling and clawing until the fabric can be parted. He reaches in with eager hands and pulls the heavy weight of Steve’s cock, stroking him to spread the pearl of moisture gathered at the tip.

 

“Now,” Tony mutters, wrapping his legs around Steve’s hips and pulling him closer, “will you please, _please_ fuck me?”

 

Steve offers a smirk but doesn’t answer, shifting his hips without warning, lining up as he removes his fingers and presses into his husband in one long thrust. Tony is tight around him, slick and clenching and probably not as loose as Steve could have made him, but it’s _tight_ and warm and pulsing and perfect. He wants to maintain the upper hand, gloat a little over his ability to reduce the other man to needy whimpers and inarticulate cries, but he can’t.

 

So instead, he sets a steady rhythm. He takes a sturdy grip of Tony’s hips and pulls him further onto his cock before retreating and pressing in again. Steve grunts and clutches and _fucks_ until the table is squeaking across the floor of the lab.

 

Tony sighs and shouts, especially when Steve adjusts his hips to thrust up just enough for the head of his cock to graze Tony’s prostate with each thrust. He can feel the curl of Tony’s toes pressed hard into the backs of his thighs, just like he can feel the heat of his orgasm curling up from deep within him, but he wants to see his husband lose himself before he gives in.

 

Steve reaches, takes Tony’s swollen cock in his hand and strokes him, pace for pace with each forward press of his hips. The other man doesn’t last long, just once, twice, and he’s arching his back and screaming Steve’s name so that it echoes off the walls. And he squeezes with his release, his beautiful, cataclysmal, messy, sticky, lovely release and Steve just can hold himself back. He follows, a handful of punishing thrusts behind, emptying himself into Tony with a sobbing moan.

 

They pant together, an unglamorous heap on top of the laboratory table, until they can’t hear the blood pounding in their ears any more. Steve’s muscles are liquefied, the serum can’t keep up with sex with Tony, but he manages to lock his knees and not collapse onto the cold, hard floor.

 

Tony pulls him down for a lazy kiss when they finally have their breathing under control. It’s sloppy, hazy in that fucked out sort of way and Steve can feel the smug grin spreading over his own lips as they part.

 

“You,” he finally says, running his hand over Tony’s cheek and still getting a little doe eyed over the way his ring glints in the half light of the lab.”

 

“Wha-?” Tony’s not firing on all cylinders yet, Steve knows, and it makes him grin. He takes Tony’s hand, the one with his ring, and brings it to his lips. Vibranium, because hey, it suited them.

 

“You asked what’s gotten into me.”

 

It takes a second, probably much less than it would on someone who’s not a genius like Tony, but he sees the connection happen behind Tony’s eyes. “Oh,” he grins, “I guess I can handle that.”

 

Steve just kisses him again.


End file.
